


To own the truth, Horatio

by orphan_account



Category: Hamlet - All Media Types, Hamlet - Shakespeare
Genre: Fluff, Horatio calms Hamlet down a LOT, Iambic Pentameter, M/M, Shakespearean Language, Theatre, danish boyfriends, everything is a bit happy and a lot gay, iambic pentameter is a bitch, playscript, sad danish boyfriends, so you'd better appreciate it, tragic danish boyfriends - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 06:52:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5818390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Horatio and Hamlet at university. Let there be fluff, and calming each other down, and perhaps later there'll be stuff happening at the palace. Hamlet and Horatio are both realising their love for each other, each assuming it's unrequited, except it will be requited and they will be happy... (let's pretend the end never happened)</p>
            </blockquote>





	To own the truth, Horatio

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Anahita who is my own Hamlet](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Anahita+who+is+my+own+Hamlet).



> Iambic pentameter is a bitch to write. Sorry for any inconsistencies. Thee/thou/thy/thine is more colloquial and friendly (or was at the period), you is used in more formal situations and in letters. If you have a problem with the language, tell me, and I'll explain it or sort it (gived is one but I found a reference in...it was either Hamlet or Measure For Measure where he used it as a past participle of give and it worked better with the rhythm than gave).

Scene I

_A bedroom in the university at Wittenberg. Two beds are made up. HAMLET is lying on the larger of the beds, staring at the ceiling. HORATIO is sitting perched on the edge of the bed._

HORATIO: What afflicts thee, my lord?

HAMLET: To own the truth, Horatio, I could not say.

HORATIO: How so, my lord?

HAMLET: I cannot comprehend my thoughts, Horatio.   
Words whirr into my brain but don’t deign to give me time to understand them.   
Would that I could tell you what afflicts me, sir.   
I should be happy to, if I knew myself what ‘twas.

HORATIO: Well, sir, if you might unburden yourself to mortal man, know I am always here.

HAMLET: I thank thee, Horatio. Ever art thou kind to me, when I deserve it and when not.

HORATIO: Thou shall’st always deserve my kindness, sir.

HAMLET: So thou say’st, but it cannot make it truth.

HORATIO: And nor need it that, when it is truth to start.

HAMLET: _(exasperated)_ Relent, sir. This is no duel. I’ll give you it.

HORATIO: Well met, my prince. Thou know’st well when ‘tis prudent to relent.

HAMLET: Tell me, Horatio, what ails thou, then?   
How is’t thou so cheerily all woe of life can bear?

HORATIO: What woe? Life’s fine a gift of God’s, dear Hamlet.   
Come, now, my prince, surely you must know it.  
The turning of the swallow through the air,  
Such light as lifts the woes from any man,  
The scent of fresh-picked lavender or fir,  
The flushéd swell of Doinysia’s gift,  
The blushing pink of evening’s setting sun,  
The slow dance of the moon and of the stars.  
See, Hamlet, now, how much there is to love?  
So why be woeful, waste thine hours on tears?  
Why weep when thou could’st love if but thou chose?

HAMLET: Horatio, fairest friend, gladden thy words mine heart.

HORATIO: So ever it should be thus, sire.

HAMLET: Thou need’st not call me ‘sire’, so – are we friends?

HORATIO: Of course, my lord, but thou… Thou art a prince!

HAMLET: Nor yet my lord! My prince, though, thou may’st call me.

HORATIO: My prince then, sir, but still when all’s said-

_(HAMLET leaps up and grasps Horatio’s waist, pulling him close.)_

HAMLET: Nor sir! Horatio, come – my name is Hamlet! Call me it!

HORATIO: As thou say’st, sir, I shall.

HAMLET: _(rebuking impulsively)_ As thou say’st, _Hamlet_ , thou shall.

HORATIO: _(smiling tenderly)_ As thou say’st, Hamlet, I shall.

HAMLET: There, now thou hast it, Horatio!

HORATIO: Is’t so then, Hamlet, prince of Denmark mine?   
It cheers me, prince, to know it. Know’st thou that?

HAMLET: I know that now, what e’er I knew before.

HORATIO: Thy arms remain about me, Hamlet, still.

HAMLET: I had not noticed. Apologies, sir

HORATIO: No need apologising, Hamlet, friend.

HAMLET: And yet, I do.

_(HAMLET takes his arms from around Horatio and lies back on the bed. HORATIO stands.)_

HORATIO: I’ll take my leave of thee, sir, if I may.

HAMLET: No sir, Horatio, but you may go.

HORATIO: I thank thee, sir.

_[Exit HORATIO]_

_[Enter SERVANT, bearing a letter]_

SERVANT: Sire, a letter from the king has come for you.

HAMLET: Hand it me then, sir, and I thank you.

_(SERVANT hands HAMLET the letter and bows.)_

_[Exit SERVANT]_

_(HAMLET opens the letter)_

HAMLET: _(reading aloud)_ My dearest son,  
I write to you in love and earnest wish  
That you your scholar’s exploits do enjoy  
In Wittenberg, at university.  
Hamlet, grave happenings are yet afoot,  
Your uncle causes me much great concern  
His lust for power seems unquenchable  
I seem to him a limit on his part.  
Still, don’t let me interfere with studies  
My son, I hardly could forgive myself  
If I were to stir up your nervous wit  
To no avail. Yet vigilant be, son,  
For if your uncle means you harm   
There’ll no safe haven be for you my son  
All this bear in mind, but bear in mind my love  
Which goes with you wheree’er you go, dear prince.  
Your loving father,  
Denmark’s King.

_(HAMLET clutches the letter tightly in his hand.)_

HAMLET: My uncle, most nefarious traitor  
His plots, his schemes, his intrigues: he conspires  
To work against me. O! What treachery!  
And such dire straits my father needs me call  
To tell me ever vigilant to be…  
Well, father, I shall keep a watchful eye  
Let that be known. My uncle shall not harm   
Not if a watchful gaze my soul could save.  
I swear, I shall be wary day or dusk  
And if my uncle seeks some unknown harm  
Will my sword-arm ready be to strike him.

_(HAMLET leaves the letter on the side)_

_[exit HAMLET]_

_[Enter HORATIO, carrying the letter]_

HORATIO: O fie, my king, for shame, that you should send  
Your son, prince Hamlet, such a pen as this!  
What were your thoughts? I’d give much gold to know,  
When well you know the rash anxiety  
That he in nervous spirit doth possess.  
What horrored spectres eating up his brain  
Shall be set loose by letters such as this?  
Did’st not you think, when such a word you penned  
How dearly dear prince Hamlet should affect  
To paranoid delusions of your health  
And terror of his uncle’s coming plots  
To panic he shall be bestirred henceforth  
With growing dread and phantoms looming large  
How delicate this prince, so easy led  
His mind and passions easily unstilled  
You know it, and yet still you penned this tale  
Which sets my heart to blossom great unease  
You know your son, and yet such dire reports  
Send off, with emissaries from the king  
Is there some reason I am loathe to see?  
Are you so worried as to risk the mind  
Of your dear son, his saneness fling to chance?  
What is’t I’m missing sir? Is there some truth  
In these reports you send? Are you afeared  
Your brother some disastrous plot creates?  
Forsooth, would knowledge of your mind were not  
Forbidden me, I should then seek to know.  
But God has made it so that I cannot  
For all his love I wish he’d grant me this  
But divine wisdom lets him not obey  
So stand upon what knowledge I do have  
I should not ask for more, nor reason God.  
‘Tis not his mind for mortal minds to know.

_[exit HORATIO]_

 

Scene II

_Hamlet’s bedroom, at night. HORATIO enters and kneels on the floor. After a few moments, he affects to fall asleep, resting his head on the coverlet of Hamlet’s bed._

_[enter HAMLET]_

HAMLET: _(quietly)_ Horatio, how is it that thou come’st  
And sleep’st upon my bed. You look so calm  
I’d almost think ‘twere death had o’ertaken  
Thou in the act of kneeling – what, in prayer?  
Speak’st thou now to that most divine traitor  
That dwell’st in heaven and that loves thee best  
Of all his subjects, surely, for thou art  
The loveliest of men, so good and kind  
Innocent child, who never thought of death  
Nor was afeared, nor taken misery  
As I have oft. This melancholy that  
I bear hast ne’er afflicted thou the same  
As’t has enveloped I, so deep and dark.  
What is this, that I speak of thou so long?  
So tender do the words spring from my mouth  
As never have before – Horatio  
What is’t about theemakes me speak this way  
I feel as one afflicted with a plague  
My heart doth beat too fast, as one in haste  
Whose breath doth come so fast, his heart does ache  
As mine for thee, and yet I am not sick  
Then what is this? Wilt somebody explain  
Why is’t I feel this way. _[speaking more loudly]_ Horatio!

_[HORATIO awakes]_

HORATIO: My lord!

HAMLET: Why is’t thou liest here, my dearest friend?

HORATIO: I never meant to do so, Hamlet, sir  
Confess, I waited for thee, and then sleep  
Did’st draw across her shroud, and I succumbed.

HAMLET: Don’t speak of shrouds now, dear Horatio  
Thou remindest me of death.

HORATIO: I never meant to, sir. Come, sit with me.

_[HAMLET and HORATIO sit together on the bed. There is silence for a moment.]_

HORATIO: My lord, thou art too quiet, come, what is’t  
Comes now and burdens thy great heart? Tell me.

HAMLET: I have received a letter from my father.

HORATIO: What concerned it?

HAMLET: A plot, methinks, upon my father’s life?

HORATIO: O, fie, sir, ‘tis a pretty tale. Untrue.

HAMLET: A grain of truth is to be found in it.  
He fears my uncle plots toward his death.

HORATIO: Of his own brother? Nay, it cannot be.

HAMLET: The hearts of men contain dark troubles, friend  
And who can say what seethings lie beneath  
The surfaces that seem to be stillest.

HORATIO: Yet I fear thy mind should’st stir to action  
To most violent and turbulent passions.  
And then in desperate fits discover  
There never were such plots as gived it cause:  
Thy father were most safe, thy uncle kind  
What storms thou should’st have raised, and all for nought!  
I would not have it, rather have thee safe.  
Thy violent nature worries me this much:  
I venture thou could’st conjure passioned storms  
Affect the world around thee, and affect  
Thy fragile, tender heart, and if it break  
I’d with it break, I prithee, Hamlet, stop  
And think more calmly of it. Have some sleep  
Let rest affect thy reason to the best.  
  
HAMLET: ‘Tis grand good counsel. I bid thee goodnight.

HORATIO: Good night, sweet prince.

_[exit HORATIO. HAMLET lies down to sleep.]_

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry there is no actual love in this chapter. I'm taking it slowly, and also this takes so damned long to write because of having to see if each line scans, and working out scenes and entrances and exits and yeah. Any advice/tips is good. The world needs more Hamlet/Horatio fiction, and for some stupid reason I decided to do it in Iambic pentameter. I should've just done the modern day uni AU... I still will probably.


End file.
